THOSE GLORIOUS DAYS

POEM

Those were not the days of cell phones.

Those were not the days of internet and 

e-mails pregnant with life-less words. 

Those were the days of

lively, throbbing words

inside inlands or postal covers.

On the day of her departure to the

distant city to take up  her new assignment

her eyes welling up and

the lump in her throat

blocking her not to bare her feelings.

With a smile, though a painful one

which he hid behind the veil of pleasantness

he consoled her.

‘Cry not my daughter

I wish always I wish

you were my own daughter

do write to me and

share with me your joys and sorrow

here I am free to share

with you and console you

whenever  you feel like missing me badly

here I am always anxious to learn

about your moments of joy and delight and

thereby overwhelm me and get me elated.

You always wished

to call me your friend, philosopher  and guide,

even your mentor.

Do I deserve such compliments

and if you are so particular, eyes

you can call me that way

and let me call you

my daughter, my own beloved daughter.

Once in a year or two, whenever

 I get an opportunity to

pass thru your beloved city, you know

by that time you would get accustomed with

the city, part of the city which does

have a rare virtue to endear anyone

who spends mere two weeks of sojourn

 with her and gets attracted to her lullaby,

care and affection.

You know, once upon a time I too was

in her lap and was close to her bosom.

Write to me, my daughter

write to me, whenever

you fell free to share

with me your joys and sorrows….. ‘